


the singing of your heart

by hallwinter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dream Bubbles, Gen, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 13:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallwinter/pseuds/hallwinter
Summary: your mother always came when you needed her.





	the singing of your heart

**Author's Note:**

> im a god damn emo

You are not aware of your own death. Those shrieks, those screams; you assumed they were your usual plague. Gold was spilling from your eyes and nose and mouth and ears and you thought nothing of it. You were doomed to an eternity of pain, weren't you? This is only routine. From your upbringing to now, you have never had a single good day. You are the sunken, the drowned, the weary. You were a prophet of doom and, eventually, it consumed you. More importantly, you are The Helmsman. The Pilot. The greatest psionic who ever lived. And the constant migraines don't change that, no.

 

It all changes when the screaming stops. 

 

It's never been quiet. It's always been tortured voices suppressed in the back of your mind, orders from the ship you became, war and death and doom and everything else. But now there is nothing.

 

You… don't like it. It tastes too much like fear to you. Something is going to go wrong any minute, and all you have to do is wait.

 

Now that you think about it, the ship is oddly quiet. You feel powered down, despite still being held up by cables and wires and feeling pulses of psionics in your veins. The ship is darker, too. Empty. Everything happened all at once and ended the next moment. This is bad, this is very bad.

 

There are ports in your spine that you never noticed were aching. Actually, your whole body aches. You don't really remember feeling this much discomfort. Your back is kind of at an awkward angle; you're leaning forward with your arms outstretched above your head, and your head sinks and stares constantly at the ground. It takes too much effort to lift it up. 

 

There was someone who always lifted you up. It eased your aches for just a moment. You recall the sharp claws and bright eyes and scaly skin adorned with gold. Her smile was poison. Everything about her was poison, but you relished in it. You drank the wine you knew was toxic, and you paid for it every waking moment. You miss the taste of it.

 

There are footsteps echoing down the hall now. Could that be her? Could it? Has she finally come to visit you? You're excited and scared and so, so alone. The anxiety is enough to lift your head up and stare at the entrance to the block.

 

It isn't her. It is a tired woman, just barely taller than you, with kind eyes and hair that stuck up unnaturally. You hardly recognize her.

 

“You,” she whispers sweetly. She doesn't bother to lift up her skirt even as her feet dip into the shallow water beneath her. For some reason that is beyond your explanation, you don't flinch from her touch. She's softer than Her.

 

“I-” you cough. It's been too long since you used your voice, so it comes out rather raspy and mangled. “I need to remember.”

 

“Take your time,” she says. Her nails run through the hair on the back of your neck.

 

“You are… you are, um.”

 

“Your mother?”

 

You squint. “Yes.”

 

“Do you know my name?” she asks, full of patience.

 

“We called you Rosa,” you remember that much, at least. A long time ago, further back than you wish to see, you hear yourself calling for her. “ _ Rosa, Di is pissing off highbloods _ ,” or “ _ Rosa, I have a headache, _ ” or “ _ Rosa, please don't leave me _ .”

 

Rosa has jade green tears in her glossy eyes. “That's right.”

 

“I think I missed you.”

 

“Well, I would sure hope so.”

 

Her smile is too warm. You aren't used to it.

 

“I’m confused. Why are you here?”

 

“We waited.”

 

“ _ We _ ?” You snap your head up and search the room. “Where is-”

 

“They will be here soon enough. Just relax.” A tug at the cable in your neck. “I need to get you out of this mess.”

 

She clicks her tongue, which is a familiar sound, at least coming from her. You don't know why that is, though. Everything in your head is a mess at the moment.

 

Unfitting from the cables is going to be just as excruciating as getting them in the first place. The Condesce made sure to keep you awake and aware during the whole procedure, and the halls were filled with your torment. You try to move from Rosa’s hand.

 

She looks… pained. “I won't hurt you. Not intentionally. I promise.”

 

Her hand is wrapped around that neck cable, fingernails drumming on the surface. Your vascular pump is racing. “I’m scared.”

 

She kisses your forehead. “I know, I know. It’ll all be over soon.” 

 

“Where is she?”

 

“She isn't here anymore.”

 

You get choked up. “Why not? Where is she?”

 

Rosa’s grip eases, and she looks into you. “You're dead, Psii.”

 

That doesn't make sense. How can you be… dead? What? 

 

You reach into your headspace to parse the concept. Before you were the Pilot, who were you?

 

You were an escaped slave, and you weren't alone. There were days you felt happy, once upon a time. The days when company came at the snap of your fingers and you sat on the deck of an old ship, watching the moons set. You were eccentric, and self-sacrificial, and your heart only had room for revolution. But that was before Her.

 

You see your moirail in chains. The blood is vibrant. Your ears ring and you felt nothing. You felt  _ nothing _ . You gave up. There was nothing left you could do but run into Her embrace. Your mother was crying as you left.

 

And now, it's your turn to sob.

 

You barely realize she is there, pulling out every wire; sending sharp, brief stings in their place. It hurts more than you remember, but you're too tired to care. Everything about you is wracked with grief and sorrow, holding onto nothing, because you have nothing left in you but pain.

 

Rosa cradles you when you finally hit the ground. There are dull pains where the cables used to slide into, but you at least feel free. Her hands are gentle on your skin and in your hair, coaxing you out of your breakdown, whispering sweet things to you in the ancient language you used to share.

 

“We didn't miss anything, did we?” says a faraway voice. Oh, yes, you know that one! That's the voice of the lover, the one who kept your records and made jokes with you when you were scared. Di, you called her.

 

“Just an emotional crisis, nothing special,” you say, and there is just the slightest amount of humor in your voice.

 

Di runs to you, and you get the feeling someone follows her. Your eyes open to see her equally teary smile, that scar on the top of her lip is just as recognizable as it ever was. “Oh my god, I missed- we missed you so much, you dumb asshole!”

 

“Way to have respect for the dead,” you joke.

 

There is another hand on your shoulder, rough but gentle. It belongs to the one you always knew was damned, but fell for anyways. And, thank god, he’s not wearing those stupid fucking pants.

 

“It’s been so long. We thought we might never see you again.” There is no falter to his voice, just as you remember from his numerous speeches and lectures. 

 

You reach up to kiss his cheek. Shaky as you may be, it won't stop you from expressing affection.

 

“I- god, I didn't think I’d ever be free of that shithole of a ship- where are we?”

 

“Doesn't matter. Hug time now,” Di declares. It's hard to say no to her.

 

So you don't.

 

Your family is back, and you are never letting go.


End file.
